


writing implements are illegal

by JeanSouth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 19:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/969455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanSouth/pseuds/JeanSouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[welcome to night vale au]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"That’s a very interesting device you have there," one of the new scientists says in earshot of one of Akashi’s radios. As a small-town sherrif that presides over a great many Odd Things, he keeps very much in the know of his citizens, and the new ones are a great disruption. "I’d like to study it closer."

The scientist is not quite as perfect as his lovely, perfect companion, but Akashi often finds perfection requires too steep a price for his budget. The scientist he listens to has imperfect eyesight and requires glasses, and holds a little bit too much faith in fate and the stars. With the stars above Night Vale shining as oddly as they do, Akashi expects nothing more than a disaster to strike soon. Midway through his thought, when he passes the sentient plant that drips hallucinogenic grape juice (of a different variety to the usual), Akashi stops. No, a Disaster was certain to strike soon - with a capital D, to ascertain its importance.

"You can’t," the hapless citizen over the radio sighs, and it staves off the Disaster slightly. A slight frizzle on the radio signal convenes a small purr from the device, that in Akashi’s mind is almost requiring capitalisation too. "It doesn’t like to be touched." 

The sound of a door slamming ends the conversation, and Akashi hopes that’s the end of it. However, life is not an easy thing as a small town sherrif, and the scientist (who has a name, but Akashi finds him intruiging enough to want a personal introduction) cannot leave well enough alone. It’s the incident with the mutating shrubbery all over again - it’s perfectly content, until someone prods and pokes at it. This time, Akashi is close enough to watch.

"I’ll be very gentle," the scientist tries to persuade a man called Joshua Medlock, a local drugstore clerk with a fascination for vintage objects. He sounds exasperated, like he never has to work quite so much to get his way. "If it doesn’t like me, I won’t ask again."

"Fine," Joshua sighs, and when the scientist reaches out a hand to touch, the Disaster tingles up Akashi’s spine in a familiar sense.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea," he intervenes, and gets the sourest look he’s seen since the great Californian wine incident of the summer of ‘07. Nonetheless he sidles between them, drawing himself up to his full height. If height intimidated him, he’d never get anywhere with the angels in town. Angels he knows nothing about, of course, if anyone were to ask. He sticks out a hand for an introduction. "Akashi Seijuurou, Sherrif."

"Midorima Shintarou," the man reluctantly offers, and reaches out to shake his hand but slips slightly to the left at the last moment, and touches the Device instead with a stroke of luck and defiance. The Device purrs, gently, like a cat on a hot summer’s day. With a look of contentment at being accepted, he lets go and shakes Akashi’s hand, then adds: "Scientist."


	2. Chapter 2

The hooded figure is not quite so little as Nijimura expects. It is, as expected, hooded. Its hood is of a dark gray colour, and smells of a soft lavender fabric conditioner. The hooded figure is still very tiny - all humans are tiny - but it is a little bit taller than he’s used to.

"What d’you want?" the hooded figure asks, from the other side of a fence that is also littler than Nijimura. When he touches it, it makes his fingers tingle a lot until he moves them away. With his new promotion that finally lets him explore the world below, he has much to catch up on.

"You," he responds on instinct, because he finds the not-so-little human very interesting. Most of the other humans won’t approach the ones with hoods, even if this one smells like Nijimura wants to sniff him very closely. With an incorporeal sigh, Nijimura lets himself slip through the time-space continuum to the other side of the fence. It saves him the time from walking.

"Go fuck yourself," the figure snarls, and turns to walk away. When he brushes past Nijimura, he can smell pizza on his breath, with onions and tuna. He wrinkles his nose at the unpleasant scent.

"Angels aren’t capable of that," Nijimura informs him, as most humans do not speak to him, or notice he exists (something he thinks the little not-human Sherrif has a hand in) and thus cannot be blamed for ignorance. "Well, not like this."

On his back, his wings ruffle. Being ten foot tall catches a lot of wind. Coincidentally, they seem to catch a lot of lightning. He has a friend that moonlights diverting lightning in residential areas. A few of his invisble eyes blink.

"I didn’t mean it literally," the figure mumbles then takes a seat on one of the swings in the dog park. He swings very high very quickly, and it somehow annoys Nijimura that the human hits his peak so quick and falls into a rut. With a divine little flicker, he flips through the figure’s soul.

"I see," he says, and he doesn’t really see at all. It’s more of a feeling sensation really, like the feeling of a phantom blister when a burn isn’t quite hot enough to become a wound, or the breeze of someone walking past on a hot day. 

"Yeah?" the figure asks, and Nijimura now knows his name. "Then go away."

For the moment, Nijimura does, but he keeps an eye on the hooded figure while he makes his way to the top. He has always liked a challenge.


	3. Chapter 3

By Tuesday, the Disaster, as Akashi called it in a series of extremely brief textmessages inviting him out to lunch, had not quite grown legs. It had, however, become a physical being that seemed to constantly hum a crooked version of Ode to Joy, and smell of cranberries and peaches.

With the Disaster in tow, being invited out to lunch ended up being lunch in instead. Akashi’s home was in the clouds, despite the day (and desert) being entirely cloudless. He also couldn’t quite remember how he got there, when he’d decided to set off to get there, or how plumbing would work in a house in the clouds. Somehow, there appeared to be enough gas and electric to run the meticulously clean oven. Though he didn’t want to admit it, the cleanliness made his heart skip exactly 0.75 percent of a beat.

"You have a lot of plants," Midorima remarked as Akashi stirred a large orange pot full of something that smelled like foreign spices. It wasn’t so much that Midorima had an interest in plants (they didn’t, they made him sneeze, and his eyes water), but moreso because one had taken to slowly twining up his leg. It looked rather like a Wisteria on the verge of flowering.

"I do," Akashi agreed, and took a glance at the plant rubbing affectionately on Midorima’s trousers before he turned to properly heat the pasta. From his position at the stove, he sent the vine such a withering glare that it tried to hide behind Midorima’s leg. "They normally behave so well."

The Disaster gave a creaking groan, like a doorway to hell that desperately needed oiling. Midorima had half a mind to thank it for making the noise the vine probably felt.

"It’s quite alright," Midorima said instead, and absently patted a haworthia that nudged against his hand like a cat after a long day alone. He didn’t particularly like cats, either. The graffiti they left on his house was terrible. "They’re just friendly."

And honestly, Akashi’s skeptical look should have made him backtrack. By dinner, half the plants in the house followed him like a moving carpet.

"At least they’re not trying to strangle you, like they did to the last guest I had," Akashi offered, with a smug tone of voice that begged to scream ‘ _I told you so_ ' along with a bit of garlic bread. It was a very special treat, considering wheat and its byproducts had been banned. As Midorima very rarely broke set rules, he felt a bit illicit eating bread.

"Why aren’t they?" Midorima asked instead, with a sip of imported wine. He was a scientist after all, with more natural curiosity than would ever do a body good. 

"They like you," he got back plainly, until his unimpressed look inspired more. "Because I like you too."

 _Oh_.


End file.
